


Atlantis Pacific

by misskatieleigh



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-01-16
Updated: 2008-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-13 13:43:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12985293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misskatieleigh/pseuds/misskatieleigh
Summary: What if the expedition never regained contact with Earth?





	Atlantis Pacific

On the coast of California, north of San Francisco but south of Oregon, lost on a map between the bumps and curves of coastline, there is a house that some say appeared by magic. The less fantastical frown, minds churning out a scenario that means not magic but more like overnight construction, the endless beach suddenly abrupt with the climb of metal and stained glass that echoes the sunset. If you are young though, you see the magic of this house that is not like any other, you see the man who wanders through an interior that captures the heat of the flaring sun and keeps out the cold that threatens to leech into his heart.

Inside the house you could imagine a million different combinations of rooms and hallways, architecture laid out on a blueprint in your mind, but none fit what dwells within, life burnished into the soft glow of the walls with a thousand fingerprints of those who were there and those who lived and died to keep them standing. Years have passed since this metal and glass was something else entirely, a lifetime compounded exponentially but this material does not age like the bodies that use it for shelter. Generations of minds have worked to keep it young, to reverse the tug of time against its surface and sweep it new and fresh for the next that will dream within its shell.

The one who lives there is not who you think. He is not a magician or wizard, not a spy or any of the whispers that slip from unknowing lips. He isn’t from the first, or the second or third generation, but is the descendant of those who came and brought life and light after ten thousand years of dark. He bears resemblance, a mirage in the spike and swirl chaos of dark hair and the fire of blue eyes that look on the night sky with an understanding that confuses even the brightest minds of those that call Earth home. He is an alien in their midst. He is a traveler returning. He takes his mission seriously, generations before relying on him to give rest when they could not reach it with their own tentative hands.

Looking in through the windows of amber and sky you would see none but the one man, hands slipping over metal as he walks the perimeter of rooms, you would see a man alone. You would be wrong to see that, wrong to think that life can only be contained in the flesh and blood that you are familiar with. You would be wrong because life has imprinted – fear and hope and love – onto these walls, with each step and each drop of blood. He is not alone, for he is surrounded by generations of a family wrought by the fires of survival.

He is loved, because they loved enough to send him home.


End file.
